~.,.a.c :.,
Of latilg eittrit.
THE BIRD'S WEEK.
Where have you been, my birdy bright!
Where have you been since Sunday night?
What have you seen, and what have you heard?
Ohl where have you been my darling bird?
Monday. I hopped on the woodbine bower;
And sucked the honey from many a flower;
From bush , to bush, and from tree to 'tree,
Raced with the butterfly and the bee.;
Next, to the milkmaid's side I flew,
When she went to the field in the morningdew;
She milked steadily, I sat by,
She sang merrily, so did I;
And I laughed a little, though snug the while,
When sbe and the pail fell over the stile.
Tuesday. It rained, so I took to the tiara,,
And perched on the beam to be safe from harm;
The kind old thresher, I very well knew,
Was working for every bird that flewl.
" Those precious fellows I" I heard him say,
HavP • , :k. of - n this dayl"
Wednesd .y. " I rose quite stout and bold;
The.flowers were jewels, the skies were gold;
Ants and ladybirds, beetles and flies,
Swarmed in the sun before my eyes;
Revelled in plenty and delight,
When sudden I heard the scream of a kite,
And a poor little dove dropped down and died,
With spots of blood on her milk• white side;
'Twas a piteous sight, I cannot deny,
But .I whispered, much rather the dove than I.
Next, I followed, with footiteps light, •
A4entle youth and maiden' bright':
A word to, mine ear the wind did bring,
'Of a large plum cake and a small golcl ring;
But good little bird must hold' histongue,
And not tell tales of the fair and young.
Thursday. I went to view the town,
-For I would not be thought a country clown.
No, stable gleanings and stunted tree
Were not for free-born birds like me.
But the pert young sparrows made so free
As to ; hint I was not good company,
Because I uttered a harmless joke,
Of their little black jackets and smell of smote;
So adieu, my sooties, for I am away
To lavender beds and , new-mown hay
Friday. I joined a countless band
Of merry wanderers in the lancl;_
The cherries were ripe, the.feast was long,
And long and clear was the thankful song ;
'LA grave oldjudge ivotild have looked.away
-,-..FromAi , troop of thieveeso glad:and gay,
Unless that-judge had happeneci to be
The owner of that same cherry tree.
. .
Saturday. Still. I shudder to.thiok
How I stood on ruin's veriest brink ;
I Was gathering worms at a cottage door',
• AI nurse and her child was playing.before,
When I heard the cruel old monster say,
,",You shall have that bird foryOur dinner to-day;
To cdch yon bird you never will fail,
, If you take some salt and put on its tail.,"
But before the, boy could turn his eye,
I was a mile toward the sky.
Sabbath. I made the steeple my perch,
To watch the peoolesoing to. Church ;
When they were in, I fluttered'about, -
To watch the good people' c'Oming . out.
Many nice boys I looked ,at there, ;
With snow-white collars and shining hair
But amongst , them all not,one could I - see
Like James find little trave Ben tome.
So now Pve come back to the old hall door,
And will never leave James or Ben any more
JOHNNY RAY,
THE LITTLE NEWSPAPER BOY:
A cold, drizzling sleet, arid a, biting
east wind, had almost cleared the
streets of passers by. Certainly no
person would walk such a night for
pleasure. Even business mist have
been urgent to coax any one out who
had a home to stay in. But, empty
as the streets were, a passenger might,
be seen here and there : a well-muffled
gentleman walking briskly under the
shelter of his large umbrella, or a
splendidly dressed lady whirling past
in her carriage to some evening party.
Did either of them notice` that little
newspaper boy' shivering at the corner ?
The, gaslight shows that his face, over
which hangs a tangled lock of red hair,
is sharp and colorless, and the ragged
clothes scarcely cover a thin and wast
ed body.
Johnny Ray had wandered far that
evening,v trying to find a few . chstOra
'ers for some of those penny papers
which were hidden from the rain un
der.his jacket. He had crept slowly
through some of the grand squares,
where the servants sometimes bought
a newspaper from him ; and, as he
looked up at the parlor windows, the
rosy light that glimmered through the
warm curtains made him feel 'more
cold than ever. Once the curtains had
been flung aside: bY 'a boy".about his
own age, and Johnny got a peep into
what seemed to him quite another
world: a happy family gathered
,
round a richly coveredteaetable. Home,
friends; love, rest, food, fire—jiist every
thing Johnny Wanted was there. But
the laughing little faCe withdrew, the
curtain's heavy folds closed again, and
Johnny painfully felt' that he was' out
side.
Then he tried a poorer part of the
city. He dragued his weary feet down
narrow streets and, gloomy courts. At
the top of, his voice he called out his
Rewspapers for sale, until a hollow
cough made him stop; but no one came
to buy.
.Tired from walking, and hopeless of
Success, Johnny rested on a door step,
and gazed up fixedly into the oppOsite
windo*s. There were no.blinds here.
Johnny could see all ttat was passing
within. in one room, near the top of
a tall old house, the feeble light of one
poor candle sliorVed a woman bending
over her sick child's bed, whispering
something to the little one, and smooth
ing its coarse pillow. Johnny brush
ed away a tear with the, sleeve of his
wet'coat : his mother was ileeping in
the churchyard. In another room there
was no caudle, but a bright, fire' sent
up flickering shadows on `the stream
ing panes. A group of child:rem: sat
QUESTION
ANSWER
THE AMERICAN PRESBYTERIAN, THURSDAY, OCTOBER 5, 1865.
round the hearth, watching a cake that
was toasting before the fire. The ket
tle hummed a song; the teapot cosily
toasted its .brown sides on the hob, and
the cups seemed to invite it to come to
the table Then the father came home,
and the children sprang to meet him.
Johnny thought he could almost hear
the kisses, taste the cake, and feel the
fire glow. But Ms father was dead,
and' he was himselrout in the cold:
Johnny got up and moved slowly
on, he scarcely knew where. At the
farthest end of the court a door stood
ajar, and so bright a stream of light
came through, that the little boy won
dered if some new gin-shop had been
orrneil. He resolves:lto go ant „see.
StePPing to the4Oor he peeped in.‘ A
grand fire roared up the , chimney, , e
it was no gin-shop There . s,
and forrns, and -books, ; • • s ates, and'
ra g ged boys 11:10.2ii. ••,- elf. There was'
a kind-looking ,gentlendan, too, who
s-einud to have a - good word for each
of these rough fellows.
,Johnny' wait-'
ed until all the scholars came out, and
then he went In. He knew this must
be a sc,hool, though he - never had been
at, one, and., hoped the master might
buy a paper; so lifting off his cap, and
giving a pull to the little red lock that
hung over his'forehead, he held out, a
newspaper; crying, in his shrill - Voice,
"Second edition, only one penny." -
Mr. Eagan turned round and saw
his little visitor. With a look of ten
der pity and kindnesS he
dripping boy to a seat near the,fire,
and, having bought a paper, sat down
beside him. - "Do you sell, many pa
pers ?" asked Mr. Eagan.: •
" Sometimes; not many of an even
ing like this," answered Johnny, twirl
ing his cap; "I often walk miles - with
nut selling one."
" And where do you live, my little
boy?"
"I don't live anywhere now, sir;
mother's dead—and father toe
• .”
"But where do you sleep at night
" In any place, sir, just as the season
is. This weather door-steps are,' not
very good,, and the policeman wakes
one up with their move on.' But I
earn my bread honestly and don't steal.
Mother would not like that, and I'll
never - do it While my name is Jchitny."
" Can you read ?" • " -
" No; sir; thougli Wouli . be very
urfal in my
,hasines;,„the newspaper
you know," headded; with a nod.
" I know all the newspapers by their
look, and make a guess at what is in
thein,• too; by listening to other boys
talking ; but I wish lodould spell >the
words. Mother • used to read. She
had' a big'bOok, with a nice cover ; it
was on the bed'near her when she died,;:
but father sold it,'l4.• her ringtoo.
v/ e "
" Then, Johnny, - 31Wc:Ome h-dt
to me every evening, I will teeth 'you
- to read. I will give you a book like
your mother's, which, I am sure, was
the Bible. Do you ever hear the
ble read in God's louse r
" Oh, sir, I never:,go there. Very
nice these ragged,clpthes, would look
next to a gentleman like you. A long
while ?go, when we liv,ed in the. coun
try, I used to go to church with moth
er • the singing was very nice, almost
like the birds. Mother used to tell me
nice things about the good -place she
was going to ; but Mid not learn
the way right then, and I have no one
to teach me ever since."
" Johnny, I think I can tell you the
way to the happy land where, your
mother is gone." _
" Oh, sir, can you ?" cried the little
boy, with a look of joy thatmade . even
his plain, pinched ; features lose their
harshness : "I will give you every
one of these papers for nothing if you
can. 3,
"Johnny, there is one Friend, and
only one, who is able to take you to
your mother's home. His name is. the
Lord Jesus Christ, the Son , , pf God.
Jesus mean_ s Savioui, for he came to
seek and save the lost. You and I
are sinners, Johnny, and therefore
lost---lost like travellers who ha.. 6
missed their way, or poor, prisoners
cond Cinned -to die. 'Johnny's ..bright
look faded quite away. "But God; in
hisgreat love and pity, sent His. only
Son Ito' die :for 'us -and Jesus , died."
t‘ sorry.for that," said Johnny,
as the old sad look crept over his ,face
again. .; "I thought you told me he
would show. .me3h6iway to mother. I'
wanted to go to-him this very night."
".&nd so you can, my boy. The
Lord - tieus lives again, and will hear
you, if you pray. He has gone up to
heaven, and is willing -to take you
there. Trust him alone."
Then Mr. Eagan drew a little. Testa
ment from his pocket, and read the
Saviour's own sweet words about the
lost sheep Wand the good Shepherd.
Clasping Johnny's thin hand, they
knelt down together. An earnest
prayer; that God would, for Christ's
sake,.shoW them the way to heaVen;
and enable them to walk in it, was
simply offered. It .was the first - time
that Johnny had tried•to pray.
The fire burned low. The old
church clock struck ten. It was time
to close the school-room and go home.
But'where was Johnny's home? Some
doorway or bridge-arch. Mr. Eagan
resolved it should be so no longer. He
remembered a very poor couple living
nigh at hand, whose, only -child had
died lately. They lived in a ` garret';
he 'thought they might give dohnny a
bed in the corner of it. Of .course he
would pay the orphad's small rent;
leading the - weary bop "down one or
two streets, and up a long, creaking.
stair, he knocked at a broken door.
The old people, though much ,startled
at so late a visit from the ragged-school 4
teacher, consented to let:Johnny share
the shelter of their room, and promised
to be kind to him for their own little
Jeri]. s sake.
Here Johnny lived for several
months. He spent his days in sellint ,
newspapers about the streets, as usual,
and, his evenings at the ragged-school;
but he never failed to repeat to his
=landlady, whom lie now'called .grand-
T c44.,91;z-th Ai.b.J?-stories„-
there, Or the good news anout the open
way to heaven through faith in the
death an•o •i 0 - rd Jesus;
I ever - forgot to pray, " Show
r e thy way, 0 Lord !" and through
sim.ple teaching a blessing came. to
.tha,thouse. But, day by day, Johnny I
grew, weaker. His cough made the;
old garret echo all nighelong. The
poor woman and her husband nursed'
him with the greatest care, refusing'
any pay for kindnesS,' which they said
was all for the sake'of their poor little.
Jem. At length he- could not walk,
even to the dragged-school, and his
teacher, alarmed at his absence, went
one evening to.see him. ,Johnny lay,
on a heap of straw in the garret, cor-,
ner. He was dozing, bUt the - voice of
his friend roused him, and, stretching
out both his worn- hands to Welcome
him, he cried, Oh, sir, I see the way
now! Itis Very plain and very short.'
:But tlie'good Shepherd is coining to
carry me home, like the lost sheep, you
know; for I'm sick and -tired. Yes,
mother, I am coming.-. Good. night.
You must all come soon. Granny,
don't forget the way."
It was death, not sleep, that folded
Johnnk'in his omian
'
arms.—Childs C
ion. -
A ,SUCCESSFUL MISSION.
FROM DR. 'GllTilltieS SKETWIES •OF '-THE',CO'..Wr'
.GITE - EDINBURGH
We selected a district'of the town,'
named' The 'Pleasance, and so called'
because in old times a religions*ireute.
stood there, dedicated to Saint Bah
cenza. 'lt ,embraced a population Of ,
two thousand people, of whom; but a.
small number were Irish . Boman-
Catholics.' The.mass was in a state Of
;practical heathenism ; very 'few at
tending any house of God, and about
two hundred children wandering ne
glected On'the streets. Ake* with Dr.
Hanna 'and myself. (the minister of St:
John'a,) , its office-bearers—numbering'
:some thirtyyz.elders and as many
deacons,resolved to raise the money,
,and.provide,the .marWilfgy ,nece
for cultivating that waste a
teacher om-. miaertoo to sup-,
pert, we built a schoOl where the chilf'
'ciren Were to be taught dUring the'
Week, and the people to worshits'on
Sabbath. As the mountain wouldtriOt
corne.to MahomeVit was resolved that
Mahodiet -should go to the mountain.
The people in the district must be
visited in their houses, and so to speak,
compelled to come in. But this work
Was not left to the missionary and the
teacher. Having divided the 'Whole'
district into portions, so knell that
each contained only some six or seven
families, we resolved that each of these
minor divisions should 'have a visitor,
whose duty it Would be. to visit , the
families once or twice a week; to stir
them out of : their lethargy; to.counsel
them ; to help them, by teaching them
how to help themselves.; to improve
their homes; to wean 'them from
drunkenness; to encourage habits of
providence, cleanliness,' and sobriety ;
to prevail on them to send their_chil
dren to school, and go themselves on
the Lord's day to the house of .God.
Let it be. particularly observed tbat
the division , allotted to each visitor
was so small that the working of it
could neither, be a heaiY demand on
their time, nor seriously interfere with
any of their other duties.
The plan having been arranged; , Dr.
Hanna and I explained it from the
pulpit, and made an appeal to - our
congregation; asking them to supply
us with money, but above all with
agents. The appeal was instantly
4trB•moblyacasponded'iM'il"Thb 7 nioney
was forthcoming f -and some forty or
fifty, persons offered their ,services as
visitors. With the wealth. and`worth
of St. John's; we descended ion The
Pleasance. We had, a devote mis-
Sionary, a capital teacher, and' some
forty or fifty Christian agents at "work
there every week. Each Monday,
Dr. Hanna met with this staff; pro
gress was reported ; the,,blessings of
Heaven were 'asked ; the 'counsels of
wisdoin given ; the, zeal of the visitors
stimulated; and the whole machinery
kept oiled, and in the beat working
order. Behold the result ...Ere long
'two hundred children were swept off
the streets into the sChool. On the
Lord's day the school - began to fill
with worshippers. - By-and-bye, the
cry, " Yet then, is room," with which .
our agents went, forth week after ,week,
was changed into ,a demand. for. in
creased accomodation. A church
must now be , built; and our congre
gation; encouraged bYthe remarkable
success with which Md had hitherto
blest the work, rose to the occasion
and built one. Mr:"Coehrane, the mis
B i onaj w, was ordained as a regular
ministo,Vid there he now labors,
assisted by a full staff:of elders and of
deacons. -.His congregation, mainly
made 'np who had 'been
once living without God and without
hope in the world, embraces six hun-
Ared and thirteen members in, full
communion • and of these, not less
;than two-thirds reside, in the imnie
41.iate neiahborhool ` Once sunk,
graded, and irreligious, neglecting lie
.education of their children, neither
contributing to the support of religious
- ordiiiiiices, nor even waiting on - them,
th6y-now_have_a_school overflowing
with children and a ohnia overttfirr
„
ing with worshippers. They pay fees
- for thet education of Melt' . -children
and with money saVed from the dram
shop come little short of providing a
living for their minister, and. meeting
all the other expenses of Divine wor
ship. Christians - have given their
work, and Christ his blessing. The
desert is blooming like the rose and
the lesson which I would press on my
reader's is, that what St. (Tohn's con
2gregation has done in: 'The Pleasance
may be equalled,_ if not surpassed, by
other congregations elsewhere:
. * !` WE -G0, 4
Into the silent lana— .
Over the.ailver. strand ,
Lead ps with gentle hand,
t '' • Savionr,`ltedeemer
Where'his beloVed sleep,
Angels - , their watchfixes keep,
Guiding through. sorrows deep,
Charged with our care.
Whom the Lord loveth well
Safely with him to dwell,
Where no earth-trials swell,
Hearts. His, forever.
Through the eternal ages,
Taming the sinless pages,
Wheiello tempest rages,
•
Clouding our Sun.
Our Sun, onr Shield, oiiiia-lory,
Through all the ages hoary,
in grateful song and , story !
Praising His 'name.
—Translated front, the German.
ADVICE TO YOUNG PEOI'LI,
Keep good company or none. Never
be idle.. _lf your hands;cannot be use
fully employed,, attend to the cultiva
ton of your minds. Aiways speak
the trath: Make few pro Mises. Live
p up `tor join' . engagehientS: Keep your
own seciets,if you have any. When
you speak to a person; look him in
the face. Good company 'and good
Conversation are .the very :sinews,-of
virtue. Your Icharacter cannot be es
sentially injured, except by. your own.
acts., If any one , speaks evil of you,
let your life be such that no one will
believe him. Drink no kind of intox
icating liqUers: (misfortune
excepted) iviehin c ycitif income. 'When
have`-beens doing during the • ay.'
Make no haste to betich; if you would.
prosper. Small and - steady gains give
competency with tranquility of mind.
Never play at any game of chance.
Avoid : temptation. Earn money be
fore you spend it. Never run into
debt unless, yokSee a:*ay tb get out
of it. —fici-n'6ll Tintil you- are
to support 'a wife. Never speak
evil of anyr.one. Be just before, you
are generous. Keep yourself innocent,
if you would be - .happy. Save when
you are. young, ;that you may spend
when you are old; and"above all, fear
trod and keep his commandments.
Read over the'above maxims at least
once a week.
A 'YANIEE,,SCHOOL-HOUSE.
Passingthrough some Massachue
setts village, 'perhaps at a distance
from any house, it may be in the
midst of a-piece of woods , where .four
roads meet, one may sometimes even
yet see, a small, square, one-story build
ing, whose use would not.. be long
doubtful. It summer, and the flick
erinw shadows of forest leaves dapple
the roof of the little porch, Wl,Pse
door stands Wide and shoWs, hanging
on either' , hand, rows, of straw hats_and
bonnets that ;look as if they had done
good service As you pass the 'open
windows, ybu hear whole platoons of
bigh-pitched voices, discharging words
of two. or three'syllables with , ivendef
ful precision and 'unanimity. ' Then
jheie is a paude, and the voice of the
omcer ,command. is-heard-reproving
some raw recruit whose vocal , musket
hung fire. Then - the drill . ofthe small'
infantry begins an9,w,but pa - Oses again
;because some urchin—who agres with
Voltaire that the superfluous is Avery
necessary t10.p.e 7 -'insists'on sphlh
subtraction" with an s `too much.
If you had the good fortune to be,
born and-bred in the Bay State, your
mind is thronged with half 'sad, half
hilmoions rdOollections.
,The, abs'
little voices long since hushed in
the mold, or ringing now in , the pul:.
pit, at' the. bar,. or` in 'the Senate chain=
her, come, back to,the ear of 'memory.
You-remember:the high stool on which
culprits used to be elevated with the,
paper fool's-cap on their heads, blush
ing to,the ears ; and you think with
wonder how you • haVe seen them since
as men climbing the: world's penance
stools of ambition without a blush, and
gladly giving everything for life's caps
and bells. And you have pleasanter
memories of going after pond-lilies, of
angling for horn-pouts--that queer bat
among the fishes—of nutting, of walk
ing 'over the creaking snow-crust in
winter, when the warm breath of every
household ivas curling up silently: in
the keen blue air. You wonder if life
has any rewards more solid and per
mane= than the Spanish dollar that
was hung around' your neck to be re
stored again next day, and conclude
sadly that it was but too truc, *pro
phecy and emblem of all wotldly suc
cess. But your 'moralizing is broken
short off by a Ottre of feet, and the
pouring forth of the whole:ii!warm—
the boys - dancing aneshouting—the
mere effervescence of the fixed, air of
youth and animal spirits uncorked—
the sedater girls in confidential twos
and threes decanting secrets put (*the
mouth of one cape-bonnet into that of
another. Times have changed since
the jackets and trowsers used,to draw
up f on one ._ side of the road, and the
petticoats on the other, to salute with
bow and courtesy the white neck
cloth of -the parson or- the squire, if it
chanced to pass: during intermission.
—.T. B. Lowell.
CHILDREN WORKING FOR GOD.,
When Jesus Was twelve years old
he said to his parents, " Wist - ye not
that I must be about my Father's
;business?" 1. e. " Don't you know I
have something to do for my. Father in
Heaven ?" And he doUbtless tried to
do something all the, time to please and
hopoißod ; as, when older, "He went
abOut 'doing good." Take cop e " from
Oirist in this respect, my dear little
friend. You can do a great deal for
God; if you only try.
A boy lay on his 'bed, weak and
-pale from a -severe sickness: He had
early loved the Saviour, and. though
life was beautiful, he was willing to
die.
" You are going to leaven, my dear
boy," said the minister,,smootlaing his
wavy brown he f ir. " You are now in
the dark valley, but Christ is with
you. I am with yOu always, he
says, even unto the end.
"I =know it, I know it," answered
the child, ‘" I am with you always;'
but say the other."
"' Whcit other, my 'darling ?" asked
his mother. , "
Jamie's breath grew shorter ; but
at last he said turning his eyes full
upon his father, who was not a Chris
tian , Be *:also ready.' God,"
he' prayed, " may my father never be
able . to forget; " B 6 '0 also reaiky.' "
"My darling Jamie," cried'his father,
throwing his arms around him, "you
must not die."
. But the dear boy pressed his cold
lips - upon his father's, cite*, and still,
eager, o do him good, hegathered all
his .strength and again said,"Father,
be ye, also readi!" and so (hied. That
message was never forgotten. It saved
thefit' then You see hoN useful wain,
this' eild, even though sink, and wetilr,
I - I.erneTuber: another laase, showing
how much V-ohild.may do.
A few years ago, there was-a little'
girl livingiin New York city,, whose
mother earned
,a by selling
apPles. This little child, was taken to
the Sabbath- • school, .where she' soon
was converted. Then' she felt, as Jesus
did, that she must about her Father's
Inisiness, So she went and:fatind two
other, poor girls, and persuaded them
'to , come to the Sabbath-school with,
her, and in a little:While they became
Christians.:: When ; these girls, were
grown up, they reinoved to a part of,
the country where nothing was done
to bring the children to the Saviour ;
and they went to:work and gathered
the little ones together into a Sabbath
school. Then
_they went farther' off,
and formed , another school,' and -then
another, until elelien Sabbath-schools
had been: formed in the neighborhood,
and itundredB , of- children
,saved
them. All this from that, child of the
applewoman
Wthat encouragement . in these ex.-
ampler for you to . try tO do smnetlnng
for :God:!
„
A gentleman, lecturing in the neigh
borhood of London, : -
"Everybody ' has influence, even
that little , = child,” , pointing to a little.
girl in her father's ATMS.
" That's true," cried-the man.
At the close he said to the lecturer,
"I beg, your pardon, sir, but I could
not help speaking I-,was a drunkard;'
but as Tdid not like to go to the pub
.
lie house alone,' T used to carry the
'child. As I Aipiorroached the • public'
hOuse one night, hearing a great- noise
inside, she said :
Don't .go, father.' ',Hold your
tongue, child. ' Please, father, don't
go, _Hold your tongue, I say.'
Presently I, felt a big tear falling on
my cheek I could not
. g 9 a stop, fur
ther, sir. I turned
. rolind" and went
home, and I haivnever heen in a pub
lic house since, thank CrOd for itl I
am now a happy man sir, and this little
girl has donedt all ; and when you
said.. that even-: she had = influence, I
could not help saying.'that's true, sir.'
All have influence."
There is no little child too small
To work for God ;
There is a mission for us all,
Froni'ehrist the Lord.
'Tis not enough for us to give
Our wealth alone,
We must entirely for him live
And be his own.
Though poverty our portion be,
Christ will not slight .
The lowliest little one, so he
With God be right.
The poor, the sorrowful, the old,
• Are round us still ;-
thid does . not always ask our, gold,
lintheart and will.
Father, 0 give us grace to see
A place for us,
Where.in thy.vineyard, we for thee
'labor thus I
LNatiioiaad llaptist
••, og AN \ INFANT. -
; I
r
An angel canie'foi our - Bird hisi night,' •
Last night at the midnight noon,
As we smoothed the curls from the forehead
Wiiites •
And sang a low, lullaby tune :
And . Wethetklit she had only faller`to sleepr
Worn out with her torturing pain,
And thatfmoothe,d by a slumber, so calm and
sweet,
She would wake and be merry again.
But alas! in her intio`Ceutheatityshe died,
Died in thn r elianiber over nthend,
The waxen Miff e4i'Ver ilieganghuti blue eyea;
And they saw thatennlarling-iivasidead I
In the years that are bound to the 'beautiful
Past,
I have pitied poor hearts thai. werelogn
Brthe:deatipofa - child-Fbulpattlasts oh kat:float
I know what it is thus to mourn.
Ye are kiud 4 i t '
yonrkindnerstlean n er yft.):Lp
The pall thatis Over my heart,
And your hand cannot take from my lip the
dread-cup, ,
Or from rnyikriting bosom the dart!
0! was it for this that I suffered and loved!
For this that I cherished my flower s ,
Till the strength of a mother's wild ldie I had
proved,
And the charm of each thrice blestied 'hour:
No,-no! God forgive me, if blinded ; by Maki',
I'see not his outstretched hagdi'l•
And the bow which is linking 7 tio6 grief-laden
years
To the shores of the heavenly land,
7
.
-Forgive-me, if stung by this terrible wog
I walk in the blackness of night•L ,
And see but and a forehead of OD* ,
And a dimpled hand, stiffened and'ir*W-
AFFECTING ORDINATION CHARM.
At the late ordination of Rev: AY.
S. Wright, by the Presbytery, of Lo
.
gansport, the charge was delivered:by
his father, Rev. Dr. Wright, of Delphi,
Indiana:* We copy from the charge
the following tender paragraphs
"And :: you; my first-born S4:74=rol,ty
I not adaregs you from the ,outigtkifr
ings of a father's loving hearil You
have been the child of many prayers.
The very day of your birth you were de
dicated to God and to the service Cif the
ministry at the family altar. When - the
hands of your paternal grandfather,lting
since gone to heaven, were laid upOn
you in Baptism, that solemn act of de
dication was rendered. You have been
highly favored with the counsels 04
prayers of-your venerated and , ,beloved
maternal grandfather, more ,recently
called.to his reward. He, first received
you to the full privileges of the Churoh
of Christ ; and that 'retired Chatitbei'd
prayer where he_daily communed with
God for hours, haS witnessed many
earrtest, importunate intercessions in
ybur behalf. 1
"Ton descend from an almost un
broken line of ministers for seven quo
cessive generations, of whom the ven
erable missionary and apostle to the
Indians_, John Elliott, was the parent
stock. 0 remember my son , the cloud
nsses that hp i 've gone before yon,
- 4
arid So live - and het, as not only to
honor' the - Memory of your fatherb,-
who -for many generations have stood
forltheclefeneenfthe Gospel, , but to be
true and faithful to Jesus Christ, o by
giving yourself wholly tohis work."
CANNOT PLEASE EVERYBODY.
"If you. please; said the Weather
cock to the Wind, "turn me to the
South. There is such a cry out against
the 'Cold, that I am afraid they'llput
Me down if I stop much longer in this
North palter."
So the wind flew from the South,
and -the Sun was master of the day,
and rain fell abundantly.
"Oh, ,please to turn me from the
SOuth," said the Weathercock to the
Wind - again.
"`The potatoes will alrbe spoilt, and
the corn wants dry weather,-and while
am here, rain it will; and, what with
-the heat, and the wet, the farmers are
just mad against me."
So the wind shifted into the West,
and there came soft, drYing breezes
day after
. 14y..
"Oh. dear 1" said the WeathereAk.
"Here's a pretty to do I au.cn
looks as I get from eyes all:around - me
the 'first thing every morning I the
grass is getting parched up, and there
is no water for the stock . ; and what is
to -be -done ? As to the gardeners,
theysay there won't be a pea to be.
seen; and the vegetables will wither
Away. , Do turn me somewhere - die."
" What do they say to 'yait now r
he asked.
" - What ?" cried Weatherocek ;
`why everybody has 'caught cold
everything‘' is blighted—that's- what
they'say.;` and there isn't a misfortune
that happens but somehow . or other
they lay, it to the East wind."
" Well !" cried the W#4, s let ,them
find fault ; see it's impossible Air, you
and me to please everybodyl ; - s e, i n
future I shall blow where I like; and
you shall go where,. I like, without
asking any questiOns; I don't' know
but that we shall satisfy mbre-than we
can do now, with alt - onr consideration.
EARTHLY DISTINCTIONS.
A certain ilLinister, Dr. Martin-Geier,
. ,
used to say:-" The treasures, plea
sures, honors, and distinctions which
mankind are so ardently striving to
obtain, remind me of a display of fire
works by night. When ignited, they
are very brilliant and , dazzling in ap
pearance. But liow long do they last ?
At the furthest, only a few hours, and
then nothing remains but ashes and a
little burnt paper_ So there are many
who esteem themselves happy, because
the world regards with admiration and
astonishment their honors, their wealth
and sumptuous manner of living, little
dreaming that, in a littlawhile, altwill
turn to ashes.", - -